


Velvet Gloves

by TC (thecollective)



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade Valentine's Day Fic Dump [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boxing, Cupid - Freeform, Date Night, Destiel Smut Brigade, Dirty Talk, Enochian, Established Relationship, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, First Dates, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy, Glitter, Impala Sex, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Dean Winchester, Possessive!Castiel, Public Sex, Sex in the Snow, Sex on the Impala, Smut, Valentine's Day, bottom!Castiel, in which cupid is the shippers, smut with plot, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecollective/pseuds/TC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes Cas to a boxing class for Valentine's day. There's boxing; there's smut; there's cupid. There's even glitter. This is not a crack fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Velvet Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> A very happy Valentine's Day to all Destiel shippers! Be sure to check out the Profound Love tag on Twitter. 
> 
> I do not own these characters or Supernatural. I make no profit from this (other than your kudos). Written for the Destiel Smut Brigade's Valentine's Day Fic Dump. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I know very, very little about boxing so I apologise for any inaccuracies.

"Dean, I do not want to." The angel crosses his arms, causing subtle creasing in the shoulders of his trenchcoat. 

Dean recognizes this as angelic pouting.

"C'mon, Cas,” Dean says, “Exercise is important. Staying in shape to kick the bad guys' ass or whatever." He jangles the Impala keys in front of the angel’s face and heads toward the bunker’s front door. “Time’s a-wastin.”

"I am one of the Heavenly Host. I do not require physical exertion to 'stay in shape.'"

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in Hot Wings." 

"I am not a fried poultry dish, Dean." 

Dean groans. Cas is being particularly ornery today, so cranky that Sam had snagged the keys to Cas's shagmobile and claimed that he was going for groceries. That had been four hours ago. “It's just one class. If you hate it, I will never make you go again." 

"I do not see the purpose in my attendance." 

"Well, you're the one who keeps saying that couples do things together, right? Well, instead of sitting on our asses and watching another season of Gossip Girl--don't give me that look I know you and Sam like it--we could go check out this boxing class."

"I do not see how a class entitled 'Velvet Gloves' could possibly impart any useful knowledge of self defense or martial arts," Cas grumbles. 

He waggles his eyebrows. "I promise to make it worth your while," he says.

"Do you refer to sexual relations?"

"Well, it's not sexy if you say it like that, but yes." 

The angel purses his lips. Someone who knows Cas a bit less would think that he is still pouting, but Dean knows that the angel is weighing his options. For Dean, the promise of a blow job would have had him in the Impala and halfway to Salina by now. 

“If this is how you wish to celebrate the life of St. Valentine, then I won’t object,” Castiel says at last. 

Dean sighs. This...whatever it is between them is less about compromise and more about trying to read the mind of a friggin _angel of the Lord_. “If you hate it, we’ll leave,” he says.

The drive to Salina is quiet. Too quiet, for Dean’s liking. The silence stretches between them, fraught with uncertainty. Dean doesn’t like when Cas’s normally reserved nature becomes _silent_ , when Dean can’t hear the wheels of the angel’s brain turning faster than light, when Dean can’t read the body language that has become as familiar as Sam’s. When they arrive at the gym, a good twenty miles of unnatural quiet between them, Dean begins to regret dragging Cas along to this class. It was a stupid idea. Of course Cas would find it ridiculous. 

They walk into the gym, and are greeted by a tall man with the best mustache Dean has seen since Tom Selleck. “Welcome,” the man says. “I’m David. Are you here for our six o’clock class?”

“Yes,” he says, “I’m Dean Winchester and this is my, uh, Cas.”

The Tom Selleck David smiles, the edges of his mustache turning up slightly. “Nice to meet you both. You’ll find all the equipment you need over there. When you’re ready, it’s the first door on the left. Several other couples have already arrived.”

“Couples?” asks Cas. 

David nods. “Didn’t your partner tell you? It’s a couple’s class today.” He winks at them. “A little physical exertion before getting physical, am I right? Might as well have a two good reasons to be hot and sweaty.” 

David nudges Dean and Cas toward the stacks of equipment. “You’ll need wraps and gloves,” he says. “Grab some and meet us in the classroom.”

Dean leads Cas over to the equipment. “You did not tell me that this was a couple’s class,” Cas says. “Why?”

“Uh, I thought it was obvious?”

Cas frowns. His brow furrows. Dean wants to kiss Cas until the frown turns upside down. It is a testament to how far _gone_ he is. “C’mon,” he says, avoiding the topic entirely, “I’ll wrap your hands for you.” He grabs a few rolls of handwrap and two sets of gloves. He leads Cas into the classroom, which looks like a dance studio that has been converted into a quasi-boxing ring. He heads to the back corner with a full view of the nearest exit--force of habit--and motions for Cas to sit on the floor. 

Cas sits cross-legged, and for a moment the image Dean has is of a different Cas in a different 2014. It occurs to Dean that Cas will be in any variation of his future, drugged-up hippy orgies or not. He takes Cas’s left hand in his, and loops the wrap over the angel’s thumb and around the back of his hand. He begins pulling the wrap around Cas’s wrist, and Cas sucks in a breath. He knows Cas likes it when Dean touches his hands; when he’d asked him about it once, Cas had just muttered something about “somatic senses” and had refused to talk about it any more. He finishes one hand and begins the other, and he notices that the angel’s eyes are dilated, the blue almost drowned in black. “Dean,” Cas says, “Why are we here?”

“I told you. People do things together.”

Dean wraps his own hands and by the time he’s finished, David’s entered the class at the front, followed by who Dean only can described as a greased up Matthew McConaughey. It’s obvious that they’re _partners_ , and as Dean looks around the room, he notices that all the other half dozen couples are also same-sex. He does a mental fist pump that he managed to stumble into a class that will let him get physical with Cas, and not care that he gets _physical_ with Cas. 

“Alright,” David says, “Welcome, everyone. I’m David and this is my partner, Jonathan.” He motions to greased up Matthew McConaughey, who gives an awkward wave to the class. “We’re going to make sure everyone’s handwraps are done right before we begin.”

David moves to the left side of the room and Jonathan comes to their side, checking handwraps and making small talk with the other couples. When Jonathan gets to him and Cas, the angel doesn’t wait for introduction when he says, “Dean has wrapped my hands. I assure you they’re correct.”

“Uh, okay,” Jonathan says. “So this isn’t your first time then?”

Dean can’t help but chuckle. ‘First time.’ “No,” he says, “I got in the ring a few times when I was younger. It’s Cas’s first time, though he’s no stranger to physical contact, if you know what I mean.” He delivers the last line with a smirk, and Cas frowns at him and mutters something “not understanding the need for euphemisms.” 

Jonathan smiles. “He’s a lucky man. How long have you been together?”

“Um. Uhhhhhh.”

Jonathan looks at him strangely, like he’s expecting Dean to give him a countdown of the seconds of his and Cas’s relationship. “Well, you’ll figure it out soon,” he says at last as he moves away. 

Cas glares at him, and Dean knows he fucked up. But really he doesn’t know whether to count the days from the first time he and Cas kissed or the first time he and Cas fucked or what. He can’t really count from the first date because, well, they are on their first date. 

Cas ignores him as the class begins. The class isn’t too difficult. Sure, the cute lesbian couple at the front of the class keep bending their knees before an uppercut, but he and Cas can keep pace with the instructors. Actually, Cas is doing better than okay. The angel bounce steps around the studio like he’s Muhammad Friggin’ Ali or something. David looks rather impressed with the angel’s progress, and asks if he and Dean would like to try sparring.

“You are asking me to hit Dean?” Cas asks, confused. “I thought the purpose of this course was self defense.”

“It’s just for practice,” David assures him, “So you know you’re doing it correctly.”

He positions Cas and Dean in sparring poses and instructs Cas to take a jab. Cas does, and Dean easily blocks it. “You’re telegraphing,” David says.

“Telegraphs have not been used with any regularity since the early twentieth century,” Cas says. 

It takes five minutes to describe the concept of telegraphing to Cas, who insists that he never gives away a swing before he takes it. It takes another ten minutes for Cas to understand punching power--the first swing has Dean on the other side of the room knocked on his ass and out of breath. David’s eyebrows raise to his hairline. “You’re stronger than you look,” he remarks. “Haven’t seen anything like that since the day Jonathan walked in. Got a hell of a right hook. Gave me a black eye and stole my heart in one shot.” He looks over at his partner, who is showing the lesbian couple how to properly pivot their feet. “Sometimes it’s the ones that hit you the hardest that stick with ya the longest. Now come on, let’s do it again. Dean, you hit first this time.”

The next sparring round doesn’t have Dean land on his ass, but Dean suspects that’s because Cas is holding back, which Dean is more than thankful for. He’s had his ass handed to him by angels enough times already, thank you very much. Cas looks like he’s enjoying himself, if the entirely neutral look on his face is anything to go by. By the time the class ends, though, Cas is smiling. 

David ends the class by playing the theme from “Rocky Balboa,” and the couples begin to drift out of the studio. Cas lingers, telling Dean that he wants to thank the instructors for such a “fine learning experience.” He watches Cas approach David. Jonathan isn’t anywhere to be seen, the more quiet instructor having drifted out with the rest of the students. Cas is telling David about the traditional muay thai that he saw performed in Chiangmai, and in a blink of an eye the angel has pinned Jonathan against the wall in a chokehold. David’s gone white as, well, a friggin ghost, and _of course_ their first official date would end in Cas making like Tony Friggin’ DeSouza. 

“Uh, Cas?” Dean calls. “Is everything, uh, alright?”

Cas _growls_.

“Uh, dude, why are you trying to kill Jonathan?” He stands between David and the enraged angel, just in case he decides to choke out both boxing instructors. “He’s human, man. We, uh, like to leave humans alone, remember?”

“He is _not_ human. He was targeting you.”

“Targeting me? Why?”

“He’s a _cupid_.” Cas spits the last word out like it’s cheap whiskey. 

“A _cupid_?”

“Yes, and he was targeting _you_.”

“Uh, yeah, you mentioned that. But why?”

Cas growls again, and damn it all if it doesn’t make Dean’s jeans a little tighter. He makes a mental note to appeal to Cas’s possessive side again at a later date, and then reaches out and puts a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Dean, you do not understand, he was going to--”

“Cas, _it doesn’t matter._ ”

Cas drops Jonathan and David rushes to his partner’s side. “Jon, Jon, are you alright?” he asks. When Jonathan nods, David punches him in the shoulder. “I told you no _work_ at work, you idiot,” he scolds. 

“What, so you know your boyfriend’s a cupid?” Dean asks. 

“Of course I do,” David says. “We know everything about each other. He told me on our second date.”

_“Then why were you targeting Dean?_ ” Cas growls. 

Jonathan is rubbing his neck where Cas’s hands had pressed into his skin. If he’d been human, Dean is sure that the angel would have snapped the cupid’s neck. “It’s not what you think, brother,” he says, fingers circling the skin until it’s an angry red, rather like Castiel’s face. “It was meant as a _gift_.” 

Cas’s eyes widen like saucers, and Dean is sure he’s never seen the angel look so unnerved--and that includes the first time he’d kissed the angel. “I, uh,” Cas stammers, “I apologize. I had assumed--”

Jonathan waves him away. “We all know,” the cupid tells him with a pointed look. “I’m glad to see you two _finally_ figured it out.” 

“Figured out---oh,” Dean says. “Yeah, uh, we did. Errr, well Cas had, but uh, it took me, um, a while longer to, you know. Yeah.”

“Dean is well known for his eloquence,” Cas says.

Dean regrets introducing Cas to Sam and his sarcasm.

“And we’re leaving,” Dean says. “Nice to meet you both; sorry for the  almost-strangulation. C’mon Cas, we got a road to hit.” He grabs the angel’s arm and leads him toward the exit, cheeks burning. He grabs their coats on the way out the door. 

“I don’t understand how physical violence on an inanimate object such as a roadway will do any good.”

“It’s an _expression_. Jesus.”

“Please don’t blaspheme, Dean.”

They’re halfway to the Impala when David chases them down, running across the parking lot and calling their names. Dean _really_ just wants to get in the car, drive to the bunker, crack open a bottle of Jack, and forget that this date ever happened. Hopefully he can convince Cas to forget it too. He’ll get it right next time. 

“Hey,” David says when he catches up to them. “I’m sorry about Jonathan. He was just so excited when you two walked in. You’re the dream assignment for someone like him, you know. He really didn’t know that Dean had figured it out.” David is facing both of them but clearly only talking to Castiel, who nods and tells David there is no harm done. 

“Uh, okay?” Dean says.

“We hope you come back again,” David says. “Jonathan misses his family.”

Dean wants to say “no friggin way” but he thinks of the look on Castiel’s face whenever the angel mentions Heaven and thinks better of it. “Um, sure,” he says. “But, uh, maybe for a non-contact sport.”

David laughs. “Well, where would be the fun in that?” He winks at Dean. “See you around.”

If Dean thought the drive to Salina was quiet, the ride back was doubly so. They’re about halfway back to the bunker when Cas finally speaks again. “Dean, are we together?” The angel’s voice is soft, and Dean’s heart breaks a little from the uncertainty he hears in it. He glances over at Cas, whose hands are clasped tightly together. So tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He reaches out and takes one of the angel’s hands in his own. 

“Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, we are.” He rubs his thumb over the back of Cas’s hand. He hears Cas’s breath hitch a little, so he presses a little harder, knowing that Cas likes it. The angel shudders, and Dean wants to make him do it again. He rubs his thumb in small circles over Cas’s skin, mapping out letters in a language only the two of them understand. 

“Dean,” Cas breathes out, “Pull over.”

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“ _Dean, pull over_.” 

He looks over at Cas. Oh. He knows that look. He turns the Impala down a side road off of Route 9, an old farm road that no one should be driving down in the evening hours. He throws it in park and turns to Cas, who all but launches himself at Dean. He captures Cas in a kiss, and it’s like a time paradox or something, because Dean swears everything else kinda melts away. 

He doesn’t really care how much his interior monologue sounds like a chick flick, because he’s got an angel’s tongue doing wicked things to him, and he’s _very, very_ okay with that. 

Cas is reaching over and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Get out of the car,” he demands.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to bend me over and fuck me on the Impala.”

“ _Fuck_. Your mouth, Cas.”

Cas smiles. “I can think of other uses for it,” he says as he opens the passenger door. 

Dean scrambles to get out of the car, nearly tripping over his shoelaces like a little kid. Fuck, it’s cold, but Dean doesn’t find he cares because there’s Cas, leaning over the hood of the Impala, ass waggling in the air. 

“Fuck,” Dean manages. 

“That is the general idea, but not if you’re standing three feet away.”

He crosses the gap in record time and pulls Cas off the hood and into him, pressing his lips against the angel’s almost violently. He’s not good with words, but this? This Dean can do. He threads his hands under the angel’s trenchcoat and pushes it off the angel, glad that Castiel won’t feel the cold the way a human would. He undoes the buttons on the white button-down and tears it from his lover’s body. He reaches for Cas’s belt buckles, but the angel says, “Let me.” In a blink, Cas is naked, and thank fuck for angel mojo. 

He’s naked too, he notices, except for his boots. “Uh...Cas, I hate to break it to you, but I can get pneumonia.” He makes a sweeping motion over his body. “You know, human and all.”

Cas presses a hand to Dean’s shoulder and the hunter can feel the faint tingle of Grace rushing through him. “What are you doing?”

“Regulating your internal body temperature,” he says, as if it were completely normal to use the power of Heaven to get your boyfriend naked outside in the asscrack of winter. He presses his lips to Dean’s again, and as Cas snakes his hand downward, Dean prays a short thank you to whoever is Upstairs. He doesn’t care if it’s blasphemous or not. 

Cas wraps his hand around Dean’s dick, which is already at full mast and ready to circumnavigate Castiel, and strokes it gently. Too gently for Dean’s taste. “Hey,” he complains, “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“I do.”

“Well?”

Cas doesn’t say anything, just keeps stroking Dean’s dick, which really, he can’t complain about. He does, however, reach around to Cas’s ass and give it a squeeze. Cas moans his approval, so Dean takes it as permission to explore. A finger wanders to the cleft of Cas’s ass, lightly tracing downwards and then pressing in. Cas presses something into Dean’s other hand. It’s a bottle of lube, and without looking Dean uncaps it and pours some onto his fingertips and then resumes his exploration. One finger quickly becomes two, but it’s three that has Cas moaning and thrusting his pelvis into Dean’s hip, grinding his cock onto Dean’s thigh. 

“Dean,” Cas moans, “ _Fuck me_.”

He presses a kiss to Castiel’s neck. He turns him around so Cas is facing the hood of the car. The angel places his hands on the hood, and Dean bends him over, just like his lover wanted. He traces a hand down Cas’s spine, relishing in the shiver that follows his fingers. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he says. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Cas groans. “ _Dean_.”

He loves this moment, the moment when Cas is almost too far gone to care. He thrusts forward, just a little, just so his dick is barely touched Cas’s ass. “Tell me,” he insists. He rubs his cock up and down, and Cas shivers harder. Dean knows it isn’t because snow is falling around them. On them. 

“I want you to _fuck_ me,” Cas pants, “I want you to stick your fucking cock in me and fuck me.” 

The last part of Cas’s sentence is bit off in a moan as Dean lines up his cock with Cas’s entrance and pushes in with a smooth glide. He pumps in and out slowly, and _fuck_ , he’ll never get used to this. It’s snowing harder now, but he doesn’t feel it. The white flakes dust Castiel’s back, and for a second Dean almost thinks they look like wings. He wraps his hands around Cas’s hips and digs in, knowing how the angel likes the pressure. 

“Dean, _harder_.”

Dean obliges, his hips beginning to move at a punishing pace. He feels, again, like time is slowing down, like he can see each and every snowflake as they pass in front of his eyes. There is nothing but him and Cas and the snow, and he kinda thinks that this moment was inevitable. 

He slows his pace. He leans down over Cas and kisses the snowflakes off of the angel’s spine. Cas is past moaning now, his dirty talk reduced to staccatoed consonants and gurgles. Dean reaches out his right hand and places it over Castiel’s, entangling their fingers together. “Mine,” he says, thrusting hard into the angel. “Mine.”

He begins to pound into Castiel in earnest now, each thrust of his dick an intention to make the angel lose control. Cas collapses onto the hood of the Impala, no longer willing to brace himself. He’s muttering in a language that Dean doesn’t understand but suspects is Enochian. The air around them crackles with energy, spraying through the snowfall like small lightning strikes. Cas arches back into him, Enochian words tumbling from his lips as he comes untouched. Dean wonders briefly if jizz will hurt the Impala’s paint job, but then Cas is on his knees in front of Dean, lips wrapping around Dean’s cock. Dean grabs handfuls of Cas’s hair, tugging on it the way Cas likes. The angel’s mouth is like a goddamn black hole, sucking everything in and altering the fabric of Dean’s reality. It doesn’t take long for Dean to come, not with Cas sucking like that. He pulls Cas up from his knees and kisses him again. 

When he untangles his hands from Cas’s hair, he notices something oddly sparkly on his fingertips. “Uh, what the--” he starts, “Glitter? Why is there glitter?’

Cas looks a little embarrassed. “The lube.”

“What?”

“The lady in the shop assured me it was their most popular brand and an absolute necessity for Valentine’s Day.”

Cas visited a sex shop? Without him? “So the, uh, lube is glittery?”

“Yes,” Cas says with a sigh of regret, “The lady did not warn me about that. Glitter is quite persistent.” 

“Cas,” Dean says, “Never change.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Velvet Gloves" is the name of a boxing gym in NYC that a friend of mine and his boyfriend frequent. In fact, it was his hilarious description of his (rather pathetic) attempt to box that led to this fic. So, David, this is for you. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. As always, kudos, comments, and shares are loved! 
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/dearcollectress) or on [Tumblr](http://dearcollectress.tumblr.com).


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